there was wilderness everywhere

dense of jade forests surrouned me

the picturesque landscapes reminded me

of the painting i had once hung

but when i remember the painting

those incredible laughters together

me and jimmy had shared, oh, oh

the living room always lit up in orange

i knew that Jimmy would come back

he had apprently decided we needed

a total break, so he can breath air

i didnt know what to do, all i knew

i only wanted him back, achingly

i miss him, like a duckling missing

his mama, and all the sorrows decided

to knock on my door when i woke up

and saw Jimmy’s note, i cried severely,

“Darling, i need time out, from us!

if you need anything, i am leaving

my card and car and the house to you!

Please dont come looking for me!”

one day as i was sipping grean and

lemon tea, i remembered, the painting

how jimmy used to say if he had to

disappear anywhere, he would go

into those lushy green mountains

and never ever come back to the

skyscrappers and monstrous city

my Jimmy was not a lunatic,

my Jimmy was brave like a

ferocious mountain lion, fierce, strong

his character was so impeccable,

admirable in his own right,

like a divine Lord Zeus, born into mortal

like a thunderbolt, his decisions like a

strategic magic, only weapons of words

i remember as i climb one more hill

“WHERE ARE YOU JIMMY!!!

PLEASE COME BACK TO SUZY!!!”

i stumble and i roll over the hill

i land on a bunch of lavender, oh, oh

so rich its scent like iam in nothern England

but i reminded myself that its Ireland

my Jimmy decided to disappear to, oh, oh

i get up and i suddenly see a cottage, small

but a volutpous one, with a neccessary

chimney, smoke billowing, a green

pumpkin patch with a cabbage garden

i breath in and i see a backpack, i gulp

the backpack belonged to Jimmy

i stand and wait for him to come out

and the door slowly opened, i smile

the smile that signified happiness

Jimmy appears and grins, he beckons

i ran to him and i hug him tight

“Oh, Jimmy, i missed you, you had to

leave me for this treacherous green Ireland?”

Jimmy laughs huskily and said solemnly

“Remember i wanted to disappear in the

painting, i didnt tell you its secret, honey!

I’m its painter...i paint anonymously!”

Jimmy opened the wooden door and

to my surprise i see paintings of green

landscapes, of forests and pumpkin patches

i hug Jimmy and i cried and punched him

“Why such a secret, i would have

understood and kept your secrecy!”

Jimmy replied, “When you find a secret

leprechaun and you stumble upon

your pot of gold, all you can think of

is how to be happy with your fortune!”

i realized that Jimmy’s green fortune

was indeed the greenery that basked

his imagination and his hands were the

artist that captured all flora and fauna!!!

Green.

Mean.

Two words that rhyme.

They fit her well.

She owns the school.

I cower under her rule.

She can punch.

She can hit.

Her words cut deep.

I want to flee.

The green hoodie.

It bobs through the crowd.

I can see it well.

I’m about to enter hell.

I don’t remember much.

I was trapped in my locker.

I don’t make a sound.

No one knows I’m around.

No one can find me.

I sit and hide all day.

Tomorrows today.

I ran away.

I flew along the road.

I ran along the highway.

I found a bridge.

I lept off the ledge.

The grass rushes up to me.

I hear screams.

I remember her hoodie.

All I see is green.

Subdued world

Absent of vibrant colors

Accompanied Father for

65 years

Reds, yellows, greens

Hidden as muddy browns,

Blues muted to dull

Grays

A terrible shame,

A world half experienced

When surrounded by

Nature’s marvelous show

Father travels to

America’s Last Frontier

With his 3 children

In celebration of retirement

Half-pipe valleys,

Carpeted green,

Sprinkled with pinks and purples,

Meet cobalt sky

This trip MUST be

Fully experienced

With eyes capable of receiving

Such magnificent beauty

Children gift Father

Magical glasses,

He slides them on

“What do you see, Dad?”

“Oh    My God”

Father instantly transports

To an extraordinary world

Bursting with colors

Of the entire spectrum

Muddy browns, only the moose as

Vivid greens

Visit his eyes now,

A world fully experienced!

Green can be good

Green can be mean.

Green could mean you're new

Green could mean you're sick.

Green is sometimes coupled with wealth

Green is sometimes coupled with health.

Green results from coupling nausea and you

Green results from coupling yellow and blue.

Purple was the way she walked.

Blue was the way she smiled.

Her yellow soul shined brighter than the sun

And her red mind struggled to make sense of her confoundingly green heart.

Pulled directly towards that poor excuse for a lump of coal.

She cried pure gold

Onto his shoulder,

As sharp as a freshly cut diamond,

Leaving a rusty scar along her silver cheek.

Pain was a blinding rainbow of screams and laughter and unimaginable sorrow.

She would have left it all

For a moment of translparent clarity.

Miss Verdant found herself alone. Her feelings of guilt in violating the private chamber of Mr. Merriweather were momentarily suppressed as she surveyed the room, seeking ... “what?”, she asked herself. She advanced towards the large oak desk that held a place of honor in the center of the room. A bust of Aphrodite was displayed prominently on the desktop, it’s surface a witness to the written work its owner had devoted much of his life to. What had this silent Greek goddess witnessed? What secrets did she hold? Ah, Aphrodite, you goddess of beauty who rose from the green sea-foam and was thus ‘fatherless’. “Like myself,” Miss Verdant said to herself, “but, at least I have a lover.”

Scolding herself for allowing any feelings of self-pity to surface, feelings she had so studiously struggled to smother, she now turned to matters-at-hand.

Her glanced rested on the desk drawer, its entry locked to unwelcome invasion. She withdrew the key from her handbag and silently apoligized to Mr. Merriweather for her thievish behavior as she guided the key into its counterpart.

Mr. Merriweather had told her that he loved her and would marry her as soon as the divorce was final. His wife was young and beautiful and had given him three beautiful children, but he told her that he no longer loved his wife and that he was deeply in love with her and could not live without her. She believed him, didn’t she? She trusted him; yes, she did! Then why was her mind twisted with envy whenever she saw her lover and his wife glowing in the spotlights of fame, swirling on the dance floors of society, locking their eyes together in a death-grip of passion? Hera new that ‘envy’ was one of the seven deadly sins and because she had been raised as a good Catholic girl, being envious of someone was something she was not capable of. Right?

What if the papers were not here? He had told her last night, one of their ‘stolen’ nights at his weekend hideaway, that the divorce papers had already been drawn up by his lawyer and that he would be presenting them to his wife as soon as the right moment came.

She turned the key and jumped as she heard the lock click open, the sound reverberating

off of every surface in the room. She methodically removed the papers in the drawer, quickly scanning each one and repeated this exercise several times. No divorce papers! Only tickets, wrapped in a red ribbon, with a note attached to it. The note was to his wife, in his handwriting, telling her that these tickets were to celebrate their second honeymoon; that his love for her had never changed since the moment he had met her.

Bile came up in her throat and she involuntarily swallowed, wincing at the pain it caused as it retreated back to the place where it had originated from.

She could not hate him, for that would be a sin and she was no sinner. She could not envy that beautiful woman who was his wife, for that, too, would be a sin. But, she now thought, her mind crazed with feelings she could no longer control, ‘to kill’ was not one of the seven deadly sins.

She silently closed the drawer, deposited the key into her over-large handbag, and putting on her snow-white gloves she withdrew from her handbag the little pistol she had placed into it early this morning. She silently climbed the deep-carpeted stairs and stopping at the landing, viewed herself in the floor length mirror. Her skin had a green cast to it, and noticing a drop of bile that had escaped its slide back down her throat, she withdrew her green hanky from the bottomless pocket of her dress and wiped away the tell-tale sign of her distress.

She opened the door and viewed her lover for the last time. Two shots were fired and the only witness to the noise of the gun was Aphrodite. Then she noticed a bust of Phthonus, but no matter how many shots she fired at it, it wouldn’t shatter.

Her hands touch natures' sunken cheek

Gracing its weathered skin

She holds it as if it were

A dying child

What was once a vibrant green

Becomes a withered gray

What was once an array of beauty

Becomes a broken and twisted mess

She pleads for what she has to stay

She begs for what once was to return

Smoke fills gray and clouded skies

Covering her in a veil of emptiness

The grass where she sits is gone

There is only uncovered soil

The water that she drank is toxic

Filled with waste and death

She sits with the broken green

Huddled in her weakened arms

And there she weeps

A lost and forgotten mother

Spinning in my kitchen,

Waiting for the alka-seltzer to dissolve,

Lyrics of broken hearts sung in my ears,

Emotions slightly out of control,

The high of loving life that'll fade with the light.

In the morning all I'll think of

Is how I wish I went to bed earlier.

Trade your tea cup of sorrow for a morsel of delight,

Trade your apathetic afternoons for one unblinking night.

With your battle scars and beauty

and your velvet undertone,

Sail, with me, the freckled ocean

and befriend a foe.

All my bright kites of desire tug away all day

and the wind is pulling harder than the will to stay.

Leave the anchor at the harbor

and throw away the chain.

Sail with me, the freckled ocean

past the pier of your pain.

Are you yellow as all butter with your class rings

and your youthful fears expanded like a woman's curves.

Will you birth a better moment?

Will you kiss it on the head?

Sail with me, the freckled ocean

as you rise from bed.

When I find my run,

How will I know?

How will I know?

Will I turn to stone?

Or will I go?

Oh, Oh, Oh

All the grass along the seashore

is bowing in the breeze,

Like the lashes of the bashful down upon their bended knees.

There's the memoir of an elephant

and every tiny seed,

Sail with me, the freckled ocean,

for as long as you need.

Ooooh, Ooooh, Ooooh

I think it’s telling that the guy

who beats the shit out of himself

both mentally and physically,

the guy who used to be so happy,

the guy who’s now filled with

anger and negativity,

the guy who only wanted someone

reliable and stable in his life,

is considered unstable himself.

My existence is worth nothing.

I’m trying so fucking hard to focus,

to concentrate and make something of myself

rather than tear down what I’ve already worked for.

I’m trying so fucking hard, lady.

Put yourself in my shoes right now.

You came directly from the dirt.

Your father barely raised you,

and when he did, it was usually with

anger or a belt.

You move around the same city

six or seven times because payments are tough.

Mom’s car gets repossessed and it turns out

Maricela may or may not beat cancer.

You sell your body to older men

because you need gas money and

you gotta make repairs on the car.

I had someone who loved me before.

I made a mistake that I’ll have to live with

in letting her go.

I just thought, naively, that

you could be there.

That we could raise each other up and

reach new heights - together.

I’m trying Kayla. The ground underneath me

is shaking and crumbling.

I know I can get through this.

It’s a mindset.

I miss you.

I still love you.

#poetry